


The Right Picture

by toyhto



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: In which Arthur and Eames are hitmen and Dom should sleep more.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157





	The Right Picture

**Author's Note:**

> My dudes, I wrote this story for Inception Bingo, for the trope Misunderstanding. Then my laptop sadly freaked out and this story got lost, BUT the nice people who fixed my laptop did a good job at saving my files, so now I get to post this tiny story of dark-ish humor and attempts at porn. Enjoy.

  
It was like any other Monday. Arthur woke up after having slept for approximately three hours and twenty-five minutes, put hand cream on the toothbrush, brushed his teeth two times with actual toothpaste to get rid of the taste of the hand cream, had three cups of coffee, and then drove to Dom’s place, because Dom had a job for him and apparently it was something that couldn’t be told over the phone.  
  
“Good morning,” Dom said, when Arthur was at his door. “I need you to kill someone.”  
  
Arthur followed Dom to the house. No one was screaming, so the kids were probably still asleep, or maybe Dom had finally figured out a way to silence them. There were toys everywhere, and napkins, and Winnie the Pooh magazines. On the kitchen table, there was a huge rocking horse. Dom put the rocking horse on the floor and started going through the envelopes that covered the table.  
  
“Sorry about the mess,” Dom said.  
  
“No worries,” Arthur said, which was a lie because he was very worried about Dom. As far as he knew, Dom slept even less than him, showered only once a week, and hadn’t left the house in a month. That might have been because the police were looking for him, or it might have been because he was trying to keep his kids alive. Sadly, keeping people alive was the exact opposite of what he was good at.  
  
“There it is,” Dom said and gave Arthur a white envelope with a text _Arthur_ written on it.  
  
Arthur took the envelope. It seemed kind of ominous that there was his name on the envelope that contained the information about who he was going to murder, but he knew that if he pointed that out to Dom, Dom would forget about it in five seconds.  
  
“Thank you,” he said instead, opened the envelope and pulled out a picture of a man.  
  
 _Holy shit._  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked, staring at the picture. If he had seen it on Tinder, he would have definitely swiped right.  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Dom said, looking at the calendar that had been taped on the fridge door with the same kind of tape Arthur had seen Dom use for professional purposes. “Why? Is there a problem?”  
  
Arthur blinked. The man in the picture was smiling. His teeth were a little crooked and he had that look in his eyes that suggested he was one of those assholes who tought their own jokes were funny as hell. Unfortunately, Arthur had always had a weak spot for that kind of assholes.  
  
“No, everything’s fine,” he said, put the picture back into the envelope and the envelope into his front pocket, so he could look at the picture carefully later. “Consider it done.”  
  
“Great,” Dom said and took a deep breath, which turned into a yawn. “Anyway, would you like to come here for a dinner on Friday night? There’s someone I want you to meet. A new employee. I think you two would get along very well.”  
  
Arthur bit his lip. Dom had tried to set him up once before. That had been seven years ago, but it was hard to forget that Dom had tried to set Arthur up with a _woman_ and then he had ended up marrying the said woman himself. Hence, the kids and the sleep-deprivation.  
  
Then again, that had been seven years ago, and Arthur had loved Mal like a sister, and he liked Dom’s kids, too, so the whole thing could have turned out worse. Also, he had told Dom multiple times that he was gay. Just to make sure Dom would get it.  
  
“Okay,” he said and left.  
  
  
**  
  
  
There was the target’s first name written behind the picture. _Eames._ Or maybe it was his last name. Dom had also written down Eames’ height, weight, and the color of his eyes. Arthur didn’t particularly appreciate that. Most of all, he didn’t appreciate that Dom had written _big dick_ under the note that said Eames loved dogs and was excellent at art forgery. Arthur just happened to love art and big dicks.  
  
Luckily, Arthur was also a professional. He told himself that he was going to kill Eames instead of fucking him. To be precise, he was going to kill Eames instead of making Eames to fuck _him,_ possibly bending him over a table or another piece of furniture. He wasn’t picky. He would happily let Eames have him anywhere, in any position Eames preferred, and Eames would certainly take his time and make Arthur beg for it. The smug assholes always did. He would have his hand on Arthur’s throat and his dick in Arthur’s ass and stop moving, and Arthur would try to push back but Eames would be just too big for him, and he wouldn’t be able to move at all, not with Eames pressing against his back. He knew this very well, because Dom had kindly shared Eames’ weight with him.  
  
He took a long shower and didn’t think about Eames at all. Then he started working. He put on his best suit, picked his favorite gun, promised himself he would upload Tinder again after this job and that he wouldn’t be lonely forever. Then he started tracking Eames.  
  
He had barely got out of the house when he saw Eames standing across the street.  
  
Holy _fuck._ Eames was even more good-looking than in the picture.  
  
Also, it was kind of bad that Arthur’s target had found _him_. The last time that had happened, he had ended up in the ER with a bullet in his chest. He flinched when he thought about that. They had given him morphine and he had flirted with the doctor and it had turned into a relationship that had lasted for two years. In the end, the doctor had broken Arthur’s heart, which had been very unfortunate considering that he had specialized in heart surgery.  
  
Now, Arthur checked that his gun was loaded and hid it. There was a tiny chance it was a coincidence that Eames was standing on the sidewalk across the street from Arthur’s house, reading a newspaper upside down. Also, he wanted to know if Eames’ eyes were as blue as they were in the picture.  
  
He walked towards Eames. Eames kept glancing at him over the newspaper. He tried to look like he was looking at the clouds and not preparing to shoot Eames before Eames would shoot him. Eames’ eyes really were blue, but maybe there was a little bit green in there, too. And his arms looked really good in that t-shirt, even though the t-shirt itself was a disaster.  
  
“Hello,” Eames said, when Arthur was only a few feet away from him.  
  
Arthur looked over his shoulder, but there was no one else on the sidewalk. Eames was probably talking to him. He cleared his throat and reminded himself that he was twenty-nine years old and a professional, and these days, he didn’t blush when a cute boy talked to him.  
  
“Hello,” he said.  
  
“I like your suit,” Eames said.  
  
Arthur blushed.  
  
“Looks like you’re on your way to work or something,” Eames added. He was smiling a little. The newspaper was still upside down, which was disappointing, because Arthur kind of wanted to read the headline on the front page. It seemed someone had been shot on the main street, in bright sunlight. It was just terrible how much violence was going on in this city these days.  
  
“Kind of,” he said.  
  
Eames nodded. “So, what do you do for a living?”  
  
“Nothing special,” Arthur said. “How about you?”  
  
“The same,” Eames said and glanced at Arthur’s house. “Do you live here?”  
  
Arthur frowned. It was kind of against the rules to tell the target where he lived. But then again, he was pretty sure this conversation was going to end with one of them dead, so it didn’t seem to matter much. “Yeah.”  
  
“Nice house,” Eames said. It sounded genuine. “Do you have a pool?”  
  
“A pool?”  
  
“Your house looks like you might have a pool in the backyard.”  
  
Arthur bit his lip. “Yeah, I have a pool.”  
  
“Nice,” Eames said and then looked down at the newspaper. He frowned, turned the newspaper the right way up and glanced at Arthur. “Well, you look like you’re going somewhere. I don’t want to keep you from your important business.”  
  
“Actually, I’m not in a hurry,” Arthur said. There was stubble on Eames’ chin. He wondered if Eames had forgotten to shave this morning, or if he thought the stubble looked manly and rough and kind of sexy on him.  
  
“I’m not in a hurry, either,” Eames said, but he looked a little confused. Maybe he had realized Arthur had been staring at his throat. “What’s your name?”  
  
Arthur tried to stop staring at Eames’ throat and fixed his eyes on Eames’ mouth instead, which was a mistake. He took a deep breath and told himself he wasn’t going to tell Eames his name. “Arthur,” he said.  
  
Well, _shit._  
  
“I’m Eames,” Eames said in a careful voice.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Eames,” Arthur said and stretched his hand out to Eames. He regretted it immediately, because it was bad manners to shake hands with someone you were going to kill in the immediate future. This was all his mother’s fault. His mother had taught him to always shake hands when he met new people.  
  
Eames stared at Arthur’s hand for a second and then took it. His grip was warm and steady and strong. Arthur breathed in. He was sure Eames’ grip would be strong like that, when Eames would have him on his knees on the living room floor, panting and sweating and _begging_ for Eames to -  
  
“Actually,” Eames said, squeezing Arthur’s hand. Arthur very much needed him to squeeze something else as well. “I’m kind of a middle of a workday,” Eames added, “but I could take a break. Would you fancy a cup of coffee?”  
  
That was a bad idea.  
  
“Sure,” Arthur said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Arthur followed Eames to a café a few blocks down the street. There, he had coffee and Eames had tea and told him about England. He listened to Eames’ voice, stared at Eames’ face and wondered why the hell Dom wanted him to kill someone British. He also wondered if Eames liked the same kind of things in bed than him, and if Eames might be up to manhandling him a little bit, and possibly, if everything went well, slapping him on the ass. He had tried that once with a high school geography teacher who had been so shocked afterwards that he had forgotten to take his shoes, when he had fled from Arthur’s mother’s house. But Eames wouldn’t be shocked. Eames would give him a self-indulgent smile and say _‘of course’_ , and then Eames would settle him onto his knees and slap him with an open hand.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
Arthur tried to take a deep breath. After he would get this job done, he would definitely start dating again. He really needed to find someone, preferably someone with a terrible t-shirt and crooked teeth and British accent.  
  
“I’m alright,” he told Eames. “I’m not thinking about anything inappropriate.”  
  
“Alright,” Eames said slowly. “Do you want something else? A cinnamon roll, perhaps? It’s on me.”  
  
Arthur looked at him. He wanted everything. He wanted a cinnamon roll, and he wanted Eames. But he needed to be reasonable about this, stop thinking about sex with Eames and think about murdering Eames instead.  
  
“No, I really should get going,” he said. “I’ve got things to do.”  
  
“Okay,” Eames said. He sounded slightly disappointed. Also, he patted the front pocket of his jeans very smoothly. Arthur had known for at least fifteen minutes that was where Eames had the gun. He was only slightly frustrated with himself over the fact that he had noticed the gun only after he had been subtly trying to stare at Eames’ dick for five minutes.  
  
He stood up. “It was nice to meet you.”  
  
Eames stood up as well. “Yeah, you too.” He had his hand resting against the front of his jeans. The gun, not his dick. Arthur swallowed a few times and touched the hem of his coat. He had his gun just underneath, in a holster.  
  
Well, then. He was going to walk to the street with Eames, and then he would shoot Eames in the heart. It wouldn’t be pretty but it would do the job.  
  
“Are you seeing someone?” Eames asked.  
  
Arthur blinked. “What?”  
  
“Sexually, I mean,” Eames said. He still had his hand on his gun, but he was looking up and down on Arthur’s body. “Or romantically, only I’ve got to admit that I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. So, I don’t know if this thing in between us is going to work out for long term. But I’m willing to give it a try. I’ve only been in the city for a few months. I moved here for work, and I’ve been kind of busy, so it’s been hard to meet new people.”  
  
“Hard,” Arthur repeated.  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said and grimaced. “So, no offence, but you’re really hot. I’m quite shocked. You look even better than in the picture.”  
  
“In the picture?”  
  
“Don’t worry about that,” Eames said. “What do you like in bed? You’re gay, right? My radar’s not been working well lately and also my hacking skills are a bit rusty, so it’s sometimes hard to find out if someone’s gay or not. But I’d bet on my life that you’re gay.”  
  
Arthur swallowed. “I’m gay.”  
  
“Great,” Eames said and smiled. Arthur wanted to kiss him, like, right now. “That’s a great start. Do you have any preferences? Top, bottom?”  
  
“Bottom,” Arthur said. His knees felt a little weak.  
  
Eames nodded. “Works fine with me. Kinky stuff?”  
  
“Not particularly,” Arthur said, thinking about Eames taking him in an alley somewhere, both of his hands trapped behind his body, Eames’ knee pushing his legs open and -  
  
“Okay,” Eames said. “I’m fine with that, too. But if you want to try something, let me know. I might have some ideas. We would use a safe word, of course. Consent is very important.”  
  
“Yeah, me too,” Arthur said, wondering vaguely what would happen if he didn’t kill Eames after all. Naturally, that wasn’t a real possibility. But he had always been a bit of a romantic in his heart, even after the unfortunate encounter with the heart surgeon.  
  
“Your place or mine?” Eames asked and then grimaced. “Actually, we should probably go to your place, because mine is at the other side of the city and also it’s full of illegal firearms.”  
  
“Mine is, too,” Arthur said.  
  
“But you’ve got a pool,” Eames said.  
  
Arthur nodded. Maybe Eames wanted to fuck him in the pool. That sounded very impractical and also he had hard time trying not to think about it too closely. He was twenty-nine years old. These days, he didn’t get a boner when a cute boy wanted to come home with him.  
  
“I want to come home with you,” Eames said.  
  
Arthur grunted and then tried to hide it with a cough.  
  
“I know we’ve only known each other for half an hour,” Eames said, glancing down at Arthur’s crotch and then at his face again, like a gentleman. “But I really want to have sex with you. And who knows what will happen in the future. You might be dead tomorrow. We should be with each other while we still can.”  
  
“That sounds sensible,” Arthur said. “And just so that you know, I think I kind of want you to slap me a little.”  
  
Eames smiled. Someone else gasped, and that was when Arthur remembered they were still in the café.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He took Eames to his home. It was a little worrying that there were firearms hidden everywhere, but then again, Eames already had his own. Arthur could hear the very familiar sound of a gun hitting the floor when Eames pulled his own trousers off. They both froze for a second. Eames looked at him and he looked at Eames and wondered if this was the point when they would stop pretending that they weren’t going to try to kill each other after sex.  
  
“That was my phone,” Eames said.  
  
“Okay,” Arthur said and started unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
Eames ended up helping Arthur with his clothes. At that point, Eames was already naked, and Arthur couldn’t stop looking at him for long enough to get undressed. It helped a lot that Eames unzipped Arthur’s trousers, tugged them down with Arthur’s underpants, and then wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s dick and squeezed just enough that it didn’t feel just good.  
  
“A safe word,” Eames said.  
  
Arthur swallowed. He couldn’t think about anything else than Eames’ fingers squeezing his dick. “Murder.”  
  
Eames blinked at him and then kissed him on the mouth.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“ _Murder_ ,” Arthur said approximately one hour and fifteen minutes later. There had been slapping. He had been on his elbows and knees on the bed and Eames had slapped him on the ass with exactly right kind of a mixture of pain and pleasure. Eames had also grabbed his cheeks, kept them apart and licked down his back and then further down and then pulled away for a second to tell him to stop wriggling and be quiet. He had been pretty bad at that, and Eames had slapped him and then licked him again. All things considered, he hadn’t been surprised when he had come not twenty seconds after Eames had finally touched his dick again.  
  
And then after a short break they had fucked. It had been slow, and frustrating, and almost unbearable, and perfect. And now Eames was still buried inside him, refusing to move, and his own dick was hard again against all odds, and he couldn’t think about anything except that he was going to fall in love.  
  
He cleared his throat. “Murder,” he said again, this time with a little more strength.  
  
Eames pulled out of him very slowly. Somehow, he managed not to fall onto his face. He felt empty and miserable and already a little heartbroken.  
  
“Are you alright?” Eames asked, petting his hair with careful fingers. A moment earlier, those fingers had been in Arthur’s mouth.  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said, hiding his face against the pillow. That left his ass up in the air but he didn’t care at this point. “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize,” Eames said in a quiet, patient voice, even though he was still panting. “You want to tell me what’s wrong? Or do you want me to leave? Because I will, if you want me to. Not that I want to.”  
  
Arthur didn’t want him to leave, either, and that wasn’t only because he was supposed to kill Eames before he would let Eames go. “Don’t leave.”  
  
“I won’t leave,” Eames said, brushing his thumb lightly against the side of Arthur’s face. “But I wish you’d talk to me. I’m so sorry if I hurt you, I didn’t mean –“  
  
“You didn’t hurt me,” Arthur cut in. Then he bit his lip. “Well, obviously you did, and it was exactly what I wanted. All of this was exactly what I wanted. I just…”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I like you.”  
  
“I like you, too,” Eames said, but he sounded a little worried now. “Very much. I know I’ve only known you for two hours, but I have a feeling that we would get along very well. Like, maybe…” He paused. “Maybe if we dated or something.”  
  
“We can’t date,” Arthur said.  
  
“Or if we got married,” Eames said, sounding thoughtful.  
  
Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He rolled onto his back. Eames stopped petting his hair but took his hand instead. “We can’t get married,” he told Eames. He was pretty sure Eames knew why.  
  
“It’s perfectly legal these days,” Eames said. “In England, at least. But I’m terribly afraid my mother’s going to insist for a big wedding.”  
  
“I meant -,“ Arthur said and took a deep breath. “I meant the other thing.”  
  
Eames chewed on his lower lip, watching him.  
  
“We can’t get married,” he said, “because it would be bad for my career.”  
  
“Oh,” Eames said slowly. “Yeah, mine too, actually.”  
  
“And I’ve been thinking about finding a new job,” Arthur said, “but that’s a big decision, and I haven’t decided yet. This thing between you and me, it’s a little… complicated.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Eames said and licked his lips. “But I’m going to have to tell you something. If I had seen your picture on Tinder, I would have definitely swiped right.”  
  
“Yeah, me too,” Arthur said. His heart was aching. Also, he was feeling a little light in the head. Possibly there had been too much sex and too little hydration. He thought about getting himself a glass of water, and then he thought about how he would get out of the bed and realize this was all madness and that he couldn’t sleep with Eames, and then he would have to end this. He would never see Eames again. “Eames?”  
  
“Yeah?” Eames asked.  
  
“Can you finish fucking me?”  
  
Eames blinked. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said. “Do it. And then we’ll deal with the rest.”  
  
Eames looked at him for a long time and then agreed. He got back onto his elbows and knees and hang his head low and waited for Eames to pick up from where they had left. But this time, Eames didn’t tease him. Eames pushed into him slowly and carefully but hit his prostate at the third try, and then kissed his back and settled into a rhythm that did everything that a good romantic comedy did for him, and more. He wanted to get to know Eames. He wanted to date Eames and have a relationship with Eames and possibly marry Eames, even though he wasn’t sure about the big wedding. They’d have to negotiate. They would become a boring couple with a house and a dog – because Eames liked dogs – and kids – because Arthur kind of wanted kids, he just had always supposed he couldn’t have any. They would kiss and fuck and fight and make up and everything would be alright.  
  
He called Eames’ name when Eames took his dick in his hand, and then he bit his lip very hard when Eames pushed into him again and again with the exact rhythm of the hand on his dick.  
  
Maybe he wanted that big wedding, too.  
  
He came and fell onto his face on the bed but luckily there were pillows. He could feel cum dripping down his thighs and wondered vaguely why they hadn’t used a condom. Maybe he had had his mind on other things. Something about the job. It was difficult to remember now when Eames pulled out and collapsed onto the mattress, draping his arm over Arthur’s side and kissing the back of his neck. The sun was shining through the window, the room smelled of sex, and Eames’ arm holding Arthur was the most perfect thing Arthur had ever felt in his life, except for Eames’ cock in his ass a moment ago.  
  
He drifted off, and when he woke up again, Eames was looking at something on the side table. Arthur tugged himself up on his elbows and took a glance. The piece of paper Eames was now holding in his hand was the picture of him that Dom had given Arthur this morning.  
  
Then Eames turned the picture around and froze. Arthur froze too and wondered where his gun was, but he couldn’t remember. He felt thoroughly fucked and too tired to shoot anyone.  
  
“This is Dom’s handwriting,” Eames said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Dom Cobb,” Eames said in a careful voice. “This is his handwriting. And how does he know that I’ve got a big dick?”  
  
“He’s a presumptuous bastard,” Arthur said slowly.  
  
“Well, I also told him,” Eames said, “but I didn’t think he heard me. He looked like he was half-asleep when we had that conversation.” He put the picture back on the side table. “I thought you were supposed to kill me.”  
  
“I _am_ supposed to kill you,” Arthur said.  
  
“But why would Dom give you a picture of me?”  
  
“Because he wants me to kill you.”  
  
Eames looked at him for a few seconds and then reached over the edge of the mattress. For a second Arthur thought he was going for his gun, but what he took from his pocket instead was a picture of Arthur. He put it in Arthur’s hand and watched as Arthur turned it around. There was his name and height, weight and eye color written in Dom’s handwriting, and then, _kind and clever, actually the best friend I’ve ever had._  
  
“I thought it was weird,” Eames said, “that he wanted me to kill his best friend. But I asked him if he was sure and he said yeah and then started talking about his kids. I didn’t ask again.”  
  
Arthur blinked. “You’re working for Dom.”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said. “You’re working for Dom, too.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said and cleared his throat. “He didn’t look at the picture in the envelope.”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said. He sounded a little frustrated now, but he was also smiling. “The man’s an idiot.”  
  
“No, he’s not,” Arthur said, and thought about the text at the other side of his picture, _actually the best friend I’ve ever had._ When he would see Dom, he would call the idiot an idiot and then hug him tightly.  
  
“Arthur,” Eames said and touched Arthur’s shoulder. “I want to go on a date with you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said, “yes, that sounds acceptable.”  
  
“And I want to kiss you,” Eames said.  
  
“Alright,” Arthur said.  
  
The kiss was great. Arthur was still a little worried that he was going to break his heart eventually, but things were looking considerably better for Eames and him than ten minutes ago. Eames was a great kisser, and Arthur was so happy he thought he might cry, and then he remembered something.  
  
He pulled away and looked Eames in the eyes. “Who do you think we were supposed to kill?”  
  
  
**  
  
  
“I gave you the wrong picture?” Dom asked, squinting at them. Then his face went white. “Oh, god, I gave you the _wrong picture._ ”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said, “and Eames, too. We thought we were supposed to kill each other.”  
  
“But that would’ve been terrible,” Dom said. He sounded shocked for a man who was holding a toddler in his arms and wearing his pajama pants inside out.  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said slowly, “it would have.”  
  
“But you figured it out,” Dom said.  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said.  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said. “Anyway, I’m just curious. Why did you have a picture about me with the text _big dick_ written on the back?”  
  
“I was going to give it to Arthur,” Dom said and squinted a little more. “Well, I was going to give it to Arthur later. I thought you two might like each other and I wanted you to meet. Arthur’s usually a little stubborn when he’s afraid he’s going to break his heart, so I thought he’d be more eager to see you if he saw a picture about you first.”  
  
“And if he heard that I’ve got a big dick,” Eames said.  
  
“Yeah,” Dom said, “that too. Arthur’s gay.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Eames said.  
  
“He knows,” Arthur said.  
  
“And I was going to give you the picture of Arthur,” Dom told Eames. The toddler was crying now. “So that you would come to a dinner on Friday and meet him.”  
  
“I definitely would have,” Eames said. “He’s very hot in that picture.”  
  
Dom frowned.  
  
“I’m gay, too,” Eames said.  
  
“I knew that,” Dom said quickly. “I realize things. And I sleep. In most nights. I’m not losing my mind or anything. I love being a dad. So, are you guys coming for a dinner on Friday?”  
  
Arthur glanced at Eames. Eames was looking at him. He felt a little absent-minded, maybe because he was in love or maybe because Eames had fucked him very thoroughly this morning.  
  
“Yeah,” he said.


End file.
